Deafening Silence - Part I

Really more of a short story... an assignment I did for school.

The young girl is not safe, even inside her mind.
Even as an eighteen year old, so young yet so old, tucked safely in her bed with the door locked... she does not feel safe.
In fact, she feels very vulnerable, exposed and raw.
Her skin feels as if it’s been stripped of the intangible armour that makes up a person’s confidence, and her body stings and radiates with attempt to hold herself together. 
She has long since given up on trying to sing herself to sleep, but she tries it anyway. It doesn’t work.
The layers of blankets feel too heavy, too disorientated; and she can’t for the life of her arrange them to get comfortable.
The moonlight drifts into her room, casts white tendrils across the scruffy carpet and draws strange, loopy shapes everywhere. 
The girl sits up, because she thinks she hears a noise. But she hears noises and voices all the time... what’s different about this one?
Silence again.
Then a plate smashes in the kitchen, vibrates in the floor and shakes the walls.
She turns her body slightly to the window and draws the curtain back. The scratchy fabric is amazingly cool to the touch, and she lets out a short gasp.
The neighbour’s house opposite her looks very intrusive.
Was it her mind playing tricks on her, or did she see a dark silhouette dart across one of the rooms? She quickly lets go of the curtain and drops back into a lying position.
The pillow wraps itself comfortingly around her face, but her eyes stay pinned open.
There’s a slight scratching at the door. The accusing squeak of the doorknob as it turns... stops... turns again... then stops.  Or was it just her imagination?
That’s when one of the voices starts up. She knows its real, because it’s the same voice she hears day in and day out. The girl lets out a sigh, waits for her pounding heart to slow back to a tolerable rhythm. It doesn’t. The faint smell of marijuana hangs in the air, and she knows that he is smoking again. That’s when he’s most aggressive, most oblivious to his behaviour.
That’s when she must be alert to protect herself. A locked door never stopped him before.  She doesn’t close her eyes until she hears the promising chirp of the blackbirds outside and the sunrise lights up the room that was once the safest room in the house, but now isn't.

Misty Louise Nessia ©

Author's Note

This was a rushed assignment, so go easy!